


Eight of Swords, Nine of Wands

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-07
Updated: 2009-07-13
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Adulthood begins when we take responsibility not only for ourselves but for others. Lavender and Neville are seventeen and in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Their time to be adults has begun.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Yesterday, when Lavender laid out her tarot spread, the cards spoke of crisis and change. The first sign of trouble came this morning when she received an owl from her boyfriend Kenneth, delivering the news that he was dumping her. He gave no reasons and Lavender could not think of any behaviour of his that might have given warning. When last she’d seen him, he’d showed none of the signs of boredom or regret that Lavender remembered well from her experience with Ron. He’d been attentive, which had been flattering coming from a man long gone from Hogwarts with a job at the Ministry. After his previous interest his news came as a complete surprise. 

She thought the break-up was the crisis, but it wasn’t. It was just the first sign. Then Mr. Patil sent an owl asking to speak to her parents as soon as possible, warning her that Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry. The situation was becoming very dangerous for Muggle-borns.

Within an hour, Lavender was sitting at the kitchen table crammed next to her brother William, while Mr. Patil explained to her parents what he knew about the fall of the Ministry, and what it would mean for a Muggle-born girl. She had a shocked, sick feeling about Kenneth and his reasons for ditching her. She suspected it had something to do with Mr. Patil’s news. 

Lavender’s father grew grey-faced and grim as Mr. Patil described the Death Eaters. He flinched when her little sister Jane wandered in carrying her pet rabbit, Binky the Second. Lavender was relieved when he sent Jane upstairs for Mr. Patil had begun to describe some very nasty things. 

“Lavender, it’s just like the war,” her brother cried, excitement in his voice. “They’re like Nazis.” 

“Quiet, William, you’re not helping,” her father snapped before turning to Mr. Patil. “It would have been more honest for your lot to have made these attitudes clear to us when they invited Lavender to come to their school.” 

“Dad, that was…” Lavender started to say. Her father silenced her with a look over the top of his glasses. He was angry. He’d figured out that she’d kept a lot of what was going on at the school from him and her mother. Lavender gave him back glare for glare. She was of age, in the Wizarding World anyway, and she had a right, if she wanted, to keep things to herself. He shouldn’t treat her like a child, deciding her future, speaking over her head with Mr. Patil. 

“It was dishonest of them, and unfair,” her father continued. 

“I’m sorry for that; I really am, but the past is past. We have to deal with what is happening now,” Mr. Patil said. “My work at the hospital gives me contacts with some who know what is happening at the Ministry. Patients of mine have tried to warn me of what is coming. They say all Muggle-borns will be required to register with the new Ministry including students.”

“Lavender won’t,” her father said flatly, before she could even speak. Really, he had no interest in what she had to say! Not that Lavender knew what she wanted, but he should be consulting her, discussing this with her. Why did everyone treat her with so little respect, the adults ignoring her, and Kenneth dumping her like a piece of used tissue?

“I agree,” said Mr. Patil. “But she cannot simply hide. They’re forming gangs to pursue fugitives.” 

Lavender imagined herself on the run from these gangs, maybe with Dean and a few other Muggle-borns from school. Mr. Patil underestimated her. She was a fighter.

Lavender’s mother, agitated and frightened, stood up and paced around the room and then tried to hide her upset by starting another pot of tea. “We can’t leave the country, my mum’s too sick to be moved and I won’t leave her and your mum… your mum needs you,” she said to her husband. 

Jane wandered back, this time carrying one of William’s pet mice. She let the mouse go, leaving it floating in the air while she grabbed a cup of tea and a biscuit from their mother, smiling at the mouse as she ate. 

“Put the creature away, Jane,” Lavender’s mother said as she carried the teapot. “It doesn’t like it in the air.” 

“Running is not the answer, Mrs. Brown,” said Mr. Patil, as her mother gave him another cup of tea. “It’s better if these wizards don’t look for you at all. We need to give Lavender wizard ancestry so she can live as a half-blood. I know where we can buy a false identity for her. Thank the gods Brown is a common name in the Wizarding World as well as the Muggle.” 

“Fake papers!” her brother said with a laugh. “Dad, this is just like a movie.”

“William, I said enough!” Lavender’s father turned to Mr. Patil. “You come to my house with plans to rescue my daughter, to protect my family, and I thank you, but that is my job and I think I will do it myself.” 

“You can’t, Mr. Brown. You have no ability to protect anyone against these wizards.” Mr. Patil nodded to Jane, the baby of the family. “I’ve heard Lavender tell many stories of this child’s bouts of accidental magic. These dancing chairs and floating mice are amusing but dangerous. The Ministry doesn’t know about the child yet; she is still too young for Hogwarts, but if they come for Lavender, they will find her and I can’t say what will happen then.” 

Lavender could imagine herself on the run, hiding from Death Eaters, but the fantasy fell apart when she thought about Jane. A little girl like Jane needed a home with a family that loved her.

“Jane’s just a little girl,” Lavender’s mother said. “Would they hurt such a little girl?”

“I’m afraid they already have,” Mr. Patil answered.

Lavender remembered the Montgomery sisters. Death Eaters had had their little brother killed by a werewolf. The creature had practically eaten him. Evil people like that couldn’t be allowed near Jane. Lavender didn’t like hearing such people mentioned while Jane was around. Jane giggled as her floating mouse paddled its legs in an attempt to find firm ground. Lavender jumped from the table, snatched the mouse from the air and marched out of the kitchen, knowing Jane would follow. She could not stand to sit and watch her sister play for another moment, not while Mr. Patil talked about the kind of people who would send a werewolf after a little boy, not while knowing that those people would do the same to Jane without a qualm.

“Oi Lavender,” Jane wailed. She was such a baby, such an annoying, silly, playful, little baby. 

“Listen, said Lavender, “if you put that mouse away and stay in my room till Mr. Patil leaves, you can play with anything you want there. It’s all yours, my clothes, jewellery, anything. But you have to stay upstairs.” 

Jane didn’t even answer, but took off at a run. Lavender wished she knew more defensive spells and could wrap the house with protections. She wished she could wrap Jane in magical protections strong enough to keep all their enemies away. She returned to the kitchen to listen to Mr. Patil. He had a plan and Lavender decided she would follow it, for Jane and for the rest of the family.

******************************************************************

Lavender moved into the Patil home that same day, sharing a room with Parvati, breaking ties with the Muggle world and her own family. Lavender agreed with Mr. Patil, her father couldn’t protect any of them. Lavender would have to do it and she would, even if it meant hiding under a fake identity. Lavender’s parents emptied their building fund accounts, sold their car, and borrowed money to come up with all that was needed to buy a wizard family tree for their daughter. A pure-blood friend of Mr. Patil’s, who had a reputation for currency speculation, converted the money to Galleons. “We can’t have anyone asking why a young witch has so much Muggle money,” Mr. Patil told her. Of course, both the friend and the Goblins took their cut; everyone did except Mr. Patil.

She was alone when she met with the man who was faking a history for her. He had insisted that he would not meet with her unless she was. When she arrived, he handed her a magical contract to sign: she was to reveal nothing of their relationship to anyone. He didn’t, of course, offer to sign anything for her in return. She didn’t want to sign -- she remembered Marietta’s fate – but she did, because she had no choice. 

The man knew she was a Muggle-born; he knew her name and could identify her. If he wanted, he could turn her in to the authorities the moment she walked out of the office. He was a threat, so when she handed over her money and he wanted more she gave it to him; she gave him all that he demanded, despite whatever she thought of his demands. 

Lavender was grateful to be safe behind the fake half-blood background that she had received from that pig. It had worked; she’d been given blood status to attend Hogwarts, while everywhere Muggle-borns were losing their wands. The newspaper was full of attacks on Muggle-borns, on books written by Muggle-borns, on art made by Muggle-borns and on romances between Muggle-borns and those the newspaper called true wizards. Her ex-boyfriend’s behaviour was easy to understand now. Kenneth had been ambitious. He hadn’t wanted to have a girlfriend who might jeopardise his standing at the Ministry. He had been a Gryffindor; he was supposed to be brave, and chivalrous, but when he needed to show it, he ran away and abandoned her.

But Lavender didn’t understand how dangerous it was to be a Muggle-born till a week after she had moved in with the Patils. Mr. Patil had floo’d home from St. Mungo’s and immediately closed off the Floo and strengthened the defences on the house. 

“Whom are you protecting us from?” Mrs. Patil asked.

“From everyone,” Mr. Patil answered. He had tears in his eyes. “They threw the Muggle-born patients out of St. Mungo’s today,” he told his wife, his daughters and Lavender. “We couldn’t stop them. When they reached the second floor and marched into the Dilys Derwent Ward, we told them the patients were contagious and couldn’t be moved. We were fools, but what could we do when they could infect others? They killed the contagious patients right in their hospital beds. They killed the patients and then told us to dispose of them as we thought best.”

He put his head in his hands and said, “No one warned me. My contacts told me nothing.” His voice sounded horrible. 

He looked up and turned to where Lavender stood next to Parvati and Padma. “You girls are staying in the house until school starts. No going out for any of you.” 

Lavender didn’t argue like she normally would. The story was too terrible. Death Eaters had killed sick Muggle-borns like they had been dangerous animals and no one had been able to stop them. The Aurors hadn’t rushed in to protect their victims; the Healers hadn’t called the Ministry because the Death Eaters had had permission. They had free reign over Muggle-borns. The patients in the hospital had had no rights. Lavender had no rights. She was a Muggle-born so the Death Eaters could do anything they wanted to her. Lavender realized that she was lucky to have a place to hide.

************************************************************************

Neville could see the effects of the Ministry’s collapse on St. Mungo’s as soon as he walked through the hospital’s glass front window. A large banner was hanging above the Welcome Witch, declaring So called Muggle-borns will not be provided service at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies. He and his grandmother had to prove their blood status before they were allowed up the stairs to visit his parents. Previously open floors were locked to all visitors except immediate family.

At the Janus Thickey ward they were stopped and asked for identification by an unfamiliar medi-witch, which felt strange, because normally the Longbottoms and the staff knew each other on sight. Inside, they found the patients agitated and upset. An old man paced back and forth in front of a window muttering to himself, while an attendant tried to comfort him. Lockhart peered out at Neville from under his bed. Another medi-witch, obviously unaccustomed to caring for such a patient, was trying to lure him out of his hiding place, straining to keep her voice gentle despite her visible frustration with her charge. Neville realized that Agnes was missing from the ward. A middle-aged woman with the head of a dog, she was hard to overlook. She was one of the first patients he noticed whenever he visited. Her absence troubled him because ordinarily she never left the ward.

Neville’s parents were still wearing pyjamas. He hated it when they weren’t dressed for the day. It was an unkind reminder of how little they had in their lives, that they had no place to go, and nothing to get dressed for. 

His gran let out a small yelp. Neville realized his father sat frozen in a Body Bind spell, a hex banned from use in their ward. Without asking for permission from the medi-witch, Gran marched over and removed the spell from her son, who immediately scrubbed at his face with his hands and then rubbed his arms, hands and chest. His pyjamas were dirty, and looked like they had been worn for days. He had nasty bites on the thumb and fingers of his right hand. 

Neville’s mother rocked within a round protective bubble. Trays of food lay next to her, untouched, while his father had his own collection of uneaten food. Neville became angrier and angrier. What was the point of leaving his parents food trays when it was obvious that neither could eat from them? How many trays would be allowed to pile up before anyone noticed that the two of them were going hungry?

Gran vanished the trays beside her son and daughter-in-law with quick and angry motions of her wand. The medi-witch moved her mouth as if she was about to comment on the loss of the hospital’s trays, plates and silver, but closed it in a thin line after one glance at Gran. 

“Very wise,” Gran said. “I suppose you can explain the disgraceful mess that I’ve found here today, but don’t bother; I’ll be talking to the healers when they make their rounds.” 

Rather than looking disturbed by those words, the witch looked relieved, but she added in a half-voiced grumble that Mr. Longbottom was a big man and difficult to handle when upset. Gran gave the remark the snort it deserved and marched over to her daughter-in-law, leaving her son to Neville’s care.

Neville approached carefully. His father really was difficult when he was angry, but now he seemed more interested in injuring himself than anyone else. His father raised his hand to his mouth to bite it again. Neville caught the hand and gently pushed it down. Though his dad gave himself some very nasty bites when he was upset, Neville could usually distract him from the habit with a little attention. 

He pulled a hamper of food from Gran’s red handbag and restored it to normal size, and dished up some Mulligatawny soup and roast beef for his dad.

“Come on Dad, let’s eat.” Neville held a spoonful of soup toward his dad, trying to coax him to open his tightly closed mouth. “It’s not a trick -- this food’s worth trying.” 

Frowning, his father allowed Neville to slip the spoon into his mouth. As he tasted the soup, his whole face looked startled with surprise. Gran’s Mulligatawny was spicy and surprisingly beloved by both his mum and dad, who probably enjoyed the break in the monotony. 

“See, decent food,” Neville said, as his father grabbed a spoon and settled into a steady pattern of eating. The man could feed himself, but he had to be coaxed into it. Neville cut up the meat and carrots and pushed them over to his father.

“You were hungry, weren’t you Dad?” Neville asked, “Would anyone have fed you if we hadn’t visited today?” 

When his father finished eating, Neville started cleaning him up. He meekly sat blinking and frowning as Neville preformed the spells that left him washed and clean-shaven but became difficult when the time came to take off his shirt. From the sounds coming from behind the curtain where his gran was dressing his mother, she wasn’t being any more co-operative. Neville’s parents were heroes, but they were also a lot of work. 

“He’s upset,” Neville said, as he manoeuvred his dad to a seat beside his wife. 

Gran didn’t answer; she had her attention on the medical team which had just walked into the ward. Several healers who would normally be present were missing. The head of the team put up a privacy bubble even before Gran reached him, not wanting the entire floor to hear her complaints. Neville remained behind. His parents weren’t in a state to be left alone. 

“Do you want to write a report, Dad?” Neville asked, as he handed his dad some parchment and a quill out of Gran’s handbag. 

His father furiously scribbled nonsense lines of circles, crosses and dashes across the page, leaning over the paper and frowning with all the concentration of an Auror sending a report to his superior. His mother looked on as her husband made his scribbles, her face as clouded and grim as his was. 

When his father reached the end of his parchment, he pushed the report towards Neville. “Thanks Dad,” he said, handing his father a new parchment to work on. He glanced over the page of scribbles, frowning as if he were reading it. 

One of the medical team members, a healer whom Neville had known for years, drifted over to where he stood. “I’m sorry about all of this, but we’re in a mess right now,” he whispered. “All the Muggle-borns on staff were driven out yesterday. We lost a lot of people.” The healer leaned over, pretending to study the scribbles Neville’s dad was making on the parchment. “Wizards from the Ministry Apparated into the building right past the protective charms. They hit every floor and broke the wands of every Muggle-born they caught.”

There was a Muggle-born trainee healer, whom Neville had secretly fancied when he was fifteen. She had been kind and friendly to him and he had worshipped her with a love that had been made more intense by its impossibility. He wondered where she was, if she had a wand or anywhere to go. 

“Today, they came with a list of Muggle-born patients, and tossed every single one out of the hospital,” the healer whispered, turning his head slightly toward Neville. “We were completely unprepared, though if we had been smart we would have seen it coming. They took Agnes and left her to wander Diagon Alley. We had to send a house-elf to look after her, while we tried to find her son.” 

The healer took Neville’s father’s hand and healed the bite wounds, leaving the skin as smooth as if the marks had never been there.

“Your father became … angry when they came. The force they used to take Agnes… their behaviour upset him. We had to restrain him to protect him from them. Do you understand?”

Neville nodded. He supposed he did. Those people could have hurt his father if he’d angered them. His father was unpredictable and could do almost anything while he was upset. 

The healer studied Neville’s face for an uncomfortable moment. He gave a little nod, like he had decided something, glanced quickly over to the visiting medical team and then back to Neville. “I’ve heard rumours of even worse crimes, crimes I can hardly believe could be true, that patients have been murdered in their beds in this hospital.” Neville was shocked at how calm he was in the face of this description of murder and murder of sick people at that. His insides were frozen. He felt too empty to be anything but calm. 

The healer whispered with more urgency, “You’ve fought them. You were with Potter, fought alongside him. Last June, you were even wounded. I saw it in the newspaper before all of this.”

Neville supposed it was true, but hearing it made him feel like a fraud. 

“They watch us all the time now,” the healer warned. “They put Death Eaters in the hospital to make sure no one is secretly treating Muggle-borns. They’re watching the casualty ward.” 

Neville had the strange feeling that this healer thought Neville was important, and working with people who were rebelling, perhaps with Harry Potter himself, all because his name had been in the newspaper. Neville didn’t know what to say. He hardly knew anything. 

“Your parents are safe, I think. They’re pure-blood and the Death Eaters view them as practically dead; they see no need to speed up the process. A few of them came to the ward today, to take a look at your parents but made no move to hurt them. They think they’re too injured to bother with.” 

The medical team returned to their rounds. The healer joined them without a look back. Gran walked over to Neville.

“They claim that this place will return to a proper state soon,” his gran said, her eyes on the healers. “They are calling in retired healers and medi-witches. Well, we shall see. I will be watching. You can be sure of that.”

Neville nodded absently. The healer’s last words angered him. It was intolerable that those people should come to stare at his parents to gloat over them in their suffering. He’d seen it before, the odd look in Crouch’s eyes while he masqueraded as the Auror Moody. He’d talked to Neville about his parents’ fate, gloating all the while. Old Malfoy had joked that Gran was familiar with losing family. The Lestrange woman had laughed at what she had done to his parents. They all thought their crimes were a joke. Neville hated knowing they laughed at his parents, who were so much better than they were. 

His dad finished another paper covered in scribbles, handing it to Neville formally like he was his boss. Neville glanced at it to be polite, and stuffed it in his pocket. “Bad things happened today and you couldn’t stop it could you, Dad?” he whispered. “You wanted to, but you couldn’t and that made you angry, didn’t it? That’s why you acted the way you did. I understand.” Neville understood that feeling completely.

He’d been scared in the Department of Mysteries with Harry, but when he had seen the Lestrange woman, he’d become so angry that he hadn’t cared about anything, as long as he could stop her, and keep her from getting what she wanted. He didn’t even know what she wanted, really, but he could see that keeping what ever it was from her frustrated her. Neville wanted to thwart her, even if it meant getting hurt, because it was the only way he could do anything to her.

“Is that how you felt, Dad?” he whispered. “Was anything worth fighting them – even this?” Neville glanced around the Janus Thickey ward, where his father had spent the last fourteen years. He knew deep in his bones that his father had fought them with all he had and his fight had brought him here, to this place, to this madhouse. The least he could do for his father was fight them, too, as best he could. 


	2. part two

Graffitti challenging Snape appeared on walls all over the school the day the students returned to Hogwarts. Parvati had come running to her, hours after they had arrived, saying students were bringing back Dumbledore's Army to resist Snape and any Death Eater rule at the school. How they were going to do that wasn't clear to Lavender, or -- she guessed -- to other students either, but they were having a meeting again in the old Room of Requirement to discuss plans. 

"Dumbledore's Army, are you ready?" asked graffiti posted outside Gryffindor tower. Lavender wasn't ready. She didn't even know where her coin was. She'd tossed it somewhere the summer after fifth year and never found it again, but coin or no coin she couldn't join. She and Parvati both agreed that she couldn't risk drawing attention to herself; not now, not when she was so vulnerable. Attending meetings of students challenging the headmaster was not a way to follow Mr. Patil's plan.

Giant drawings of Snape cursing Dumbledore greeted students, as they made their way to breakfast. Snape was cheered on in the picture by the hunched figure of Amycus Carrow, drawn so clearly that though he was a new teacher everyone knew who he was. The words How Dumbledore Really Died blinked across the top of these posters. They were ripped down as soon as they were found, of course, but they were everywhere. Kids who missed seeing them heard about them from those who had. Before the first week of school was over, everyone was asking if Snape had killed Dumbledore and if Carrow really had helped. The posters turned attention to Ginny; she was closest to Potter even if they'd broken up, and every one knew he had been in the tower the night Dumbledore had died. Lavender remembered that she'd been keen when the first Dumbledore's Army formed to make it into more than just a place to learn defence. 

Lavender had assumed that Ginny was behind the posters and maybe she was, but the witch had given herself an alibi. Ginny, contrary to past habit, had come to Parvati's divination party. In the company of Lavender, Parvati and four other girls, she had stayed up all night, playing tarot and reading tea leaves. When Snape and Carrow questioned her, she'd been able to bring six witches forward to say that she hadn't been out of their sight all night. Lavender had been a little angry at being used by Ginny, but she'd had to admit the girl had been clever. 

Lavender glanced down at her newspaper. A frightened, wide-eyed man looked up at her from the front page. The headline, Usurper of magic uncovered at the Department of Magical Transportation hung over his picture. The poor wizard was going to Azkaban. Lavender could be in the same trouble very easily. If anyone investigated her papers then she would be the one staring out of the front page, waiting for her trip to prison, and then who knew what would happen to her family, and even the Patils? Sometimes she felt ashamed when she looked at Parvati, knowing the risks her family had taken for her. The only way she kept everyone safe was to pass herself off as a half-blood witch. To do that, she had to avoid notice. No, Lavender could not be associated with Ginny and her escapades again. She had to follow Mr. Patil's plan: stay out of trouble, don't get noticed, and protect her false identity.

It irked her. It irked her to have to hang back and watch the new Dumbledore's Army form from the outside. Colin was obviously in deep. She saw him constantly with Ginny in the common room, closeted inside a buzzing cloud that silenced all they said -- Harry Potter's two biggest fans. Lavender was ashamed of herself as soon as she had the thought. Colin was a Muggle-born with a false background, yet he was willing to risk joining Dumbledore's Army. He wasn't hiding like she was, afraid to draw attention to herself, for fear they'd look too closely at her blood status. 

She tossed the newspaper aside and rubbed her face and eyes and ran her hands over her hair, trying to think of who might know she was a Muggle-born. The Patils did, of course, and Ron, who wasn't around and would never betray his friends, anyway. Seamus knew, but he would never tell, either. 

McGonagall had given her an odd look when she had shown up for school this year, but rumour said McGonagall, before turning her position over to Snape, had destroyed all records that would incriminate Muggle-borns. 

Draco Malfoy suspected. He had called her a Mudblood once, but she had never responded to the word and had followed it up with an attack on him, instead. If he accused her, she could always say that she didn't bother to deny it because he wasn't worth the effort, which was true. But how many others there were she didn't know. 

Lavender grabbed a set of tarot cards, drawing strength from the familiar worn feel of the surfaces. She needed the power of divination now more than ever. She hated to admit it but Professor Trelawney had not been much help to her. Her vague gloomy predictions were -- a little discouraging. 

Lavender took a breath and laid out a spread of five cards in a star, seeking signs of false friends and enemies at Hogwarts. "What do I see?" she asked. The card was an Eight of Swords, a blindfolded woman in a prison of swords. She saw herself, Lavender, surrounded by enemies. She placed the second card. "What don't I see?" But she didn't understand the answer, the Knight of Pentacles. 

Then she chose her third card, the one that would tell her what she had the power to change. She didn't like it. She feared this card because it made her think of suffering and defeat. It was the Nine of Wands, a wounded man holding a stave while eight other staves stood planted behind him. In the past the sprouting leaves on the staves had made her think of a gardener, but that was in happier times. Now the card brought to mind fear, wariness, strength, but in the face of suffering, battle scars and defence. Lavender meditated on the card and asked herself what she was defending. The only answer she had was her family, her sister and the Patils. She would be resolute in defending all three. 

The fourth card and the fifth cards disturbed her as much as the third had. The fourth, the card that told her what she could not change, was the five of wands, five men in battle. Her last card, her fifth card, the card that would reveal what she could expect, was Temperance. The card asked the viewer to consider who she was and who she was becoming. Looking at the card it struck Lavender that she wasn't who she was and that unsettled her. 

Perhaps, she had never been. Most people didn't know she was a Muggle-born. She was ashamed to admit it, especially now, but she'd purposely kept quiet about her background at school. She'd figured out that Muggle-borns didn't have much status among wizards and she had very much wanted status. She had never lied to anyone, but she hadn't advertised the truth either, not like Hermione, Dean or Colin. 

Colin -- how she remembered Colin running around with his camera, telling everyone that he was taking pictures to show his Muggle dad back home. Now he was at Hogwarts with Denis, brazenly assuming everyone would believe his tale of a witch mother who'd left his father when Dennis was a baby. Strangely, even though Colin lied about who he was, he seemed honestly himself, the person he had always been.

She stared down at her spread, more troubled then before, and afraid of what the cards meant. They seemed so clear and yet she still didn't feel that she understood any of them.

Neville walked up to Lavender as she studied her tarot spread. "Would you talk to me a minute?" he asked. "Because I need to ask you something." 

What could he want? He was in the DA, she was positive, maybe even a leader. Last year, he'd fought with Harry, and had even been wounded defending the castle. She was sure he was in the DA. Was he asking her to join? She couldn't. 

"It's a favour," he said. His face was red. Poor Neville had the kind of colouring that turned red easily. "I'm not asking you to Hogsmeade or anything." 

It had never entered her mind that he would ask her to Hogsmeade. 

"I really need your help. I have to sign legal documents and I need witnesses. I'm supposed to have three, but Flitwick had to cancel at the last minute, which leaves me with only Sprout and McGonagall. I'd ask Ginny or Luna but they're not of age, and Seamus and Parvati are off somewhere." He gestured to the rolled parchment, the blue seal of an official Ministry document obvious even at this distance. "All you'd have to do is watch me sign a parchment and then sign it yourself. It's official, from the Ministry; there isn't a trick or anything. Like I said, Sprout and McGonagall will be there." 

Lavender thought of the magical contracts she'd been forced to sign and balked. "First, you have to tell me what I'm signing or I'm not going to agree to do anything. Is this an inheritance or something?"

"Yeah, of course." He took a deep breath. "You know about my parents, from the newspapers and all." 

Lavender nodded. She'd read about them in fifth year; everybody had. 

"Well, they can't make decisions for themselves, so they need guardians. Now that I'm of age, I'm to be appointed one. I have to sign parchments saying that I accept the responsibility. This was supposed to all be done a week after my birthday, but after..." He lowered his voice, even though they were alone, "the attack on Scrimgeour, the Ministry was a mess and they only just finished the documents, so I have to sign them here before witnesses."

Neville was a sort of parent to his parents. That was crap. Neville had so much garbage in his life and now he had even more. She gave a resigned sigh. "I can't," she said. 

Neville looked shocked, like he never expected her to say no. "The meeting won't be long. It won't take much of your time." 

"No." It was all she could say. She couldn't put her name on papers that went to the Ministry; especially not for someone like him whose parents had fought Death Eaters. Who had fought them himself -- twice. She couldn't risk it. Snape might find out and she couldn't risk Snape's attention.

He glanced over at the papers, looking panicked. She wondered if he had anyone else to ask, but either way it didn't matter. He might be a guardian to his parents, but she was one to hers too, and to her brother and sister. She had to protect her family and that meant she couldn't take risks for other people. 

 

*****************************************************************   


 

Neville stood beside the picture of the fat lady outside the Gryffindor common room, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach. He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. The seal on his magical parchments was growing warmer and warmer, warning him that the time was approaching when they would open and he would need to sign them before witnesses, as scheduled. 

He was in trouble. First Flitwick cancelled, offering Madam Pomfrey as a replacement then at the last minute she sent her apologies. Apparently a group of second-years had snuck into the greenhouses to taunt the Venomous Tentacula and were all lying in the infirmary, needing treatment. Now, Lavender had turned him down, something he still couldn't believe had happened. He half expected her to change her mind and come through the painting offering to help. 

"Longbottom! Good, I found you." 

McGonagall marched towards him, with Sprout trotting behind. "I'd forgotten that the Ministry would owl the headmaster when legal business involving a student is being conducted. Apparently, our new head prefers to be present at such events. He insisted we have the signing in his office." 

There it was. Sneering, jeering Snape would sign the papers, in his office - the one he inherited from the man he killed on You-Know-Who's orders. Neville would rather chew glass, but he had no choice. He had forced himself to march off to face Snape and his glares, sneers, ridicule and nastiness many times before. What was one more? 

"Neville, we think it is a fine thing the way you have taken responsibility for your parents," Sprout said, as they made their way to the Headmaster's rooms.

He smiled and thanked her, because she was being kind and all, but Neville couldn't believe that she really thought he had a choice. If he didn't look out for his parents then who would? Strangers? His gran? She was getting old, though she would never admit it, and had borne the burden alone for a long time. He was young, and it was time he helped her carry the weight. 

Sometimes, Neville wished that he could look into the future without having to worry about them, and could make plans without thinking about them. He didn't like it, but he still did. That wish was no more likely to come true than a wish that they could be well and normal again. Besides, they deserved to have a son who wanted to take care of them. 

As Neville and the two professors drew closer to the Headmaster's office, Death Eaters lined the corridors, their faces hidden, hoods and masks advertising their allegiance. Their numbers seemed to increase every day. Weirdly, their presence made the meeting to come easier. They reminded him of what Snape was -- and of who his parents were. 

Finally they reached a stone gargoyle which demanded a password.

"Dunderheads," McGonagall replied, pursing her lips with disapproval. 

At her word, the gargoyle jumped aside and the wall behind the statue broke into two, revealing a moving stone staircase, which carried them to Snape's office. Inside, Snape stood bent over the desk, wrapped in his black cape. The room was dim, the windows shrouded. By the flickering light of the room's candles, Neville saw something that made him feel stupider than Snape ever had. 

Gryffindor's sword lay gleaming in a glass case behind Snape's desk. Ginny wanted that sword. Dumbledore, when he died, had left it to Harry, and Ginny was sure it would help defeat Voldemort. Luna, Ginny and Neville had been discussing stealing the thing since the train ride to Hogwarts, but had not been able to devise a plan to get near enough to do it and now, here it was in front of him. Neville had never thought to use the parchment signing as an excuse to visit Snape's office and spy on the place, which he realized was stupid of him. He was only here because Snape had insisted. Harry would have immediately thought of using the parchment signing as a way to get into the office. Luna and Ginny would have too, he felt sure, had he given them the opportunity, but he'd told them nothing about it. 

While Snape read out loud from the parchment; Neville scanned the room, looking for things they'd need to know before they came to take the sword, noting the furniture placement, and the magical contraptions that spun, twirled, and swung frantically at points around the room. One strange device sat on a table in front of Snape's desk, puffing out rings of smoke that made Neville's nose prickle at the smell. He wondered what they did, if any of them would sound an alarm if intruders broke into the room. 

Portraits lined the walls, another risk for anyone sneaking into the office. Many were empty, but a few remained inhabited by sharp-eyed watching wizards. 

Snape finished reading and held a green and gold quill out to Neville who walked forward, feeling like the weight of his parents was already on his shoulders. He'd known all his life that he would receive his father's watch and his parents guardianship when he turned seventeen, but now that it was happening, he felt like the side of Gryffindor tower had fallen on him. As Neville stepped up to the desk, he bumped the small table and in trying to set it right, knocked over the puffing device. Quickly, he grabbed the magical contraption off the floor and set it back on the table where it seemed unaffected by its fall, quietly puffing away as it had before, but Snape, of course, was outraged. He glared at Neville like he always did, like he was a flesh-eating slug that had crawled out of a cabbage, and said, "I pity anyone who must rely on you for a guardian, Longbottom." 

Neville couldn't imagine a more pointless remark. Of course, his parents were pitiful; they needed to have their seventeen-year-old son sign up as their guardian. What more evidence did anyone need? Neville already knew that he wasn't ready for the task. 

"I'm sure the Longbottoms would never have chosen this either, for themselves or their son," McGonagall remarked, while Sprout spluttered her agreement. 

"A perfect comment Minerva," Sprout whispered, when she got her breath back. "I don't see how I could add to it."

Neville took the quill from Snape and signed the parchment in silence. He didn't see the point in speaking; Snape had talked this way since the first moment they had met. When he finished, he held the quill out to the professors. McGonagall signed first, followed by Sprout, and then last of all, Snape. Neville frowned, his whole face tensing as he watched. Snape had been a friend of the people who had attacked Neville's parents. Carrow had said so. The man loved to reminisce in class about his early days as a Death Eater, and talked often of how he and Snape had run with the Lestranges when they weren't any older than the students in front of him. The indecency of allowing Snape to touch anything to do with his parents sat with Neville, like a bitter taste in the mouth. 

The room was quiet as the parchment rolled up and resealed itself, and a scratching on the window signalled the arrival of the Ministry's owl. Snape drew back the curtains and opened a window for the bird, flooding the room with light

Snape dismissed them all. Neville counted the steps between the desk and the door as he walked out. So he wouldn't forget, he jammed his hands in his pocket and marked off each step with his hidden fingers. The password was safe; Snape had called him a dunderhead too often for him to forget it. Before leaving, he took one last look at the room and caught Snape standing alone by his desk, bent over, slumped as if he was burdened. Neville hesitated over the confusing sight. When Snape noticed Neville watching him, he straightened and glared back. Neville turned from him and left, feeling Snape's eyes on his back as he went. 

As quickly as he could, Neville took leave of McGonagall and Sprout. He wanted to go before they started to make sympathetic comments about his parents. As he walked past the masked Death Eaters, bitterness rose in his throat again. He felt glad that he had knocked over the puffing device and had angered Snape. Really, he should devote all day and every day to making that man angry, irritated and annoyed. It did come easily to him. Neville decided he'd figure out what it was that Snape and Carrow wanted from him, and then do the opposite. If he thwarted them or made them angry, then his day was a success. It was a simple plan but a clear one and it made him happy just to think about it. 

At the end of the corridor just beyond the Death Eaters, Luna stood waiting for him. She'd heard that he, McGonagall and Sprout had gone to see Snape and strangely, she'd guessed the reason why. 

"Your parents need someone to take care of them and you're of age now," she said, as if the situation should have been clear as day to everyone. "You don't like to talk about them, so when you had a meeting you didn't want to talk about, I knew. Whenever you don't talk about something, I know the not-talking is about your parents," she said, as they walked.

That remark made Neville laugh. He thought the collection of subjects someone might not be talking about was quite large, and probably including things that they weren't thinking about at all. When they were long past the Death Eaters, he whispered to Luna, "We need to talk to Ginny. I think we can get into the office. I know the password and the layout of the room." 

He was his parents' guardian now, and as the parchment said, he acted on their behalf. The first thing he was going to do for them in his new role was steal Gryffindor's sword. 

As he walked with Luna, he saw on the other side of the corridor, Lavender watching him. He had the strange impression that she had been waiting for him, looking out for him. "Luna, do you see Lavender Brown over there?" he asked. 

Luna studied Lavender for a moment. "She looks like she's hiding," Luna said. 

 

******************************************************************   


 

The night after Neville had asked Lavender to witness some parchments for him, he, Ginny and Luna were caught stealing Gryffindor's sword, of all things. A painting discovered them by accident. An insomniac hit-wizard whose portrait hung in another part of the castle had decided late at night to go roaming, and saw the three of them sneaking into the headmaster's office. He'd gone for Snape and Snape had caught them, sword in hand as they stepped past the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office. He sent them into the Forbidden Forest to camp for a night as punishment, claiming he was happy to have the "denizens of the forest do his work for him." Umbridge had been the last person to spend the night in the Forbidden Forest and she had been in terrible shape when she had emerged, so the students thought the punishment a severe one. Lavender and Parvati sat up that night in the common room with half of Gryffindor waiting for Ginny and Neville to return. 

Lavender wondered what Snape thought when he caught Neville stealing a sword from his office, the night after Snape himself had insisted he visit the place. That Snape had been nasty to Neville while he was there planning his theft gave flavour to the whole escapade that Lavender liked. She had heard about Snape's behaviour from Padma, who had heard Sprout complain about it to Flitwick. Snape was an ass. She'd always known that. He was evil, of course. He killed Dumbledore and was a Death Eater and all, but besides being evil, he was also a complete ass and would be one even if he wasn't evil. He was dirty too -- nasty, evil and dirty - he could claim all three. Lavender imagined Snape juggling balls: one labelled "evil," another "nasty" and a third" dirty." She enjoyed the thought. 

No one knew what Neville, Ginny and Luna had intended to do with the sword. If the members of Dumbledore's Army knew, they weren't sharing the information. The students that Lavender thought were members looked as shocked as everyone else did when they heard the news. They were all either excellent actors or were truly ignorant of the plan. The Gryffindors, of course, were thrilled. They all agreed that their founder's sword shouldn't be in the hands of a Death Eater, Slytherin headmaster. They happily ignored the participation of a Ravenclaw girl in the deed, and insisted that the sword belonged in the hands of Gryffindors and Gryffindors were right to try to regain it. 

The attempted theft energized the school. Students talked about it and how it meant that Dumbledore's Army was willing to act, was ready to act and, maybe, even had a plan - perhaps something from Harry. Speculation ran wild, and was probably silly, but felt really good. Everyone felt less powerless and weak, and more like heroes, even if all they had done themselves was cheer for Neville, Ginny and Luna, as they spent the night in the Forbidden Forest. 

Lavender thought that she was the only Gryffindor who hadn't joined Dumbledore's Army already. Even Parvati had, though her father had begged her and Padma to stay safe. She spent so much time with the Army, she and Lavender had less time together which hurt. Parvati understood Lavender's situation and was kind about it. She would remind Lavender that she was only doing what she had to do, but Lavender found hanging back like this humiliating. Lavender Brown wasn't made to hide. Fifth year when she read in the Daily Prophet about the heroes of the last war, she imagined herself standing with them. She always believed she would fight if the need ever came and instead, she was hiding like a rabbit from a fox. 

For days, the newspaper ran articles on informers who had turned in Muggle-borns living under fake family trees. Some had received large bonuses for their information. One wizard, who had been caught arranging family trees for Muggle-borns, turned in his clients in return for freedom. She studied that man carefully to see if he had any connection to the wizard who had made her into a fake half-blood. As far as she could tell, he didn't. 

Her ex-boyfriend and the leech who had made her family tree, the two of them were out there reading the same articles she did. Could she trust Kenneth, who had been to her home, had met her parents and her magical sister, and had dumped her at the first sign of danger? She felt like a fool for trusting him like that. The wizard who'd created her papers had done nothing but take and take from her. She didn't trust him to do anything that didn't benefit himself. She was afraid it was only a matter of time before one of them turned her in.

The tarot cards had not helped. The spread revealed swords and cups, cards of regret, self-interest and weakness. One card stayed in her mind, the third, the one that revealed what she had power to change. It was the Two of Swords, a blindfolded woman, a powerful woman holding crossed swords. Am I protecting something? Myself? My family? My sister? She didn't know.

The day after Ginny, Neville and Luna returned from the forest, Colin Creevey approached her in the common room. "Neville and Ginny asked me to talk to you," he said. "They thought you'd rather hear things from me because we're both in the same boat." He gave her an apologetic look. "Just so you know -- my mother really did run off when Dennis was a baby. Whether she was a witch or not - I'll never tell."

How had they known? 

"Don't worry -- you're not obvious. Luna figured it out. Take this and keep it on you all the time." Colin handed her two small vials.

"Polyjuice potion and the hair of a half-blood girl who never has classes with you and is in another house and year. If you're ever in trouble drink the potion. It will confuse anyone who is after you. Hide in the Room of Requirement and we'll keep them busy till you get there." Colin nodded in emphasis, as he laid out the plan. "Dumbledore's Army will look out for you. The DA is here to help people who need it." Colin, his job done, walked away to join Sloper in a game of Exploding Snap.

She looked across the room to where Neville sat reading a book as if he hadn't just sent Colin over to talk to her. Her tarot cards lay on the table next to him. She walked over and as she leaned to pick them up, whispered, "Thank you." He nodded, still reading his book. "I would have helped you if I could have," she added. She still felt bad about refusing. She'd even watched for him to make sure he'd done all right without her. She'd been tempted to walk up and apologize, but then his friend Luna arrived, and they were smiling, and it didn't seem necessary. Besides, she couldn't have explained herself without giving away secrets. 

While still reading, he smiled and said, "Don't worry about it. Everything worked for the best."

The next morning at breakfast, he was still reading the same book. He smiled at Lavender briefly when she sat at the table, and then returned to his page. Stealing the sword had been very brave of him. She hadn't said anything to him yet about it, herself. Actually, Neville had done a lot of brave things that she had never bothered to notice. 

"Stealing the sword was a brave thing to do," she said, ready to list some of the other things as well. 

Neville shook his head ever so slightly, and then roamed his eyes around the room. The message was clear: Don't talk about such things in the Great Hall. She knew that. Wasn't she keeping her own secrets? Her new life had made her an idiot as well as a mouse. 

He must have been afraid he seemed rude or something, because he leaned towards her and said, "I had Ginny and Luna with me. Besides, when Snape caught us, he sent us to the Forbidden Forest, the same punishment he gave me first year." He smiled before returning to his book.

Lavender supposed having detentions so often had given Neville some perspective. By now, he was probably a detention connoisseur. He sat there, reading, elbow on the table, head resting on the heel of his hand, fingers laced in his hair, completely engrossed. She wondered what was so interesting about the book. The title was odd: Wabi Sabi for the Western Wizard. Lavender had never heard of anything like it.

"What kind of spell is that - wabi sabi?" she asked, pointing at the book cover with her fork. She was sure it had nothing to do with the DA, or being Muggle-born, so it seemed a safe subject for the Great Hall.

"It's not a spell, but a way of thinking," he said, as he read. "Kind of a philosophy behind pruning - other things too, mostly art, but they mentioned it in a book I read on pruning maples." He dragged his attention from the page and smiled at her. Neville smiled a lot. He probably thought it was polite. "I thought it was weird, having a philosophy behind pruning, so I picked up this book to figure out what they meant." 

"So what did they mean?" 

"As far as I could tell, finding beauty in the imperfect, in -- you know -- damage and scars and loss." He looked at her very seriously, like the words meant something important. 

The book still made no sense to her.

Neville broke into a grin, "You're probably thinking that a book about the beauty of imperfection is a great book for me. Huh." He laughed.

She laughed too. After years of school with Neville, that was very funny. For the first time since she got Kenneth's owl, she felt relaxed. 


	3. part three

In the morning when Neville walked into the Dark Arts classroom, he was met with spiders, jars and jars of spiders. He stopped in his tracks. The sight hit him like a slap in the face. "Crouch," he whispered. Neville never ever thought of his fourth-year teacher as Moody or fake Moody like some kids did. That would be an affront to a wizard who had once been his parents' friend. No, fourth-year defense was Crouch's class to him, and Crouch's class was something he could never think of without feeling sick, wretchedly sick. 

Neville stood frozen, blocking the doorway to the classroom till people began to push him from behind and Seamus asked him what the problem was. Staring at the rows of jar-entrapped spiders, Neville let the other students pass. Carrow was imitating Crouch. Whether because they were both using some kind of Death Eater teaching method or because Carrow knew Crouch, and had taught him -- or learned from him, Neville didn't care. What he did know was that Crouch and Carrow were links in the same chain that led from one to the other. The spiders just made that more obvious than ever.

He knew exactly what Carrow was going to do.

Neville walked to his seat, set his book bag on the floor and waited. Seamus and Ernie both leaned over and asked him if he was all right. Zacharias Smith looked at them and said, "What are you worried about? Neville acts odd like this all the time. You must have noticed by now."

Neville ignored all three of them. Carrow was stepping forward to begin the class and he wanted to keep all his attention on the man. He glanced at Neville, meeting his eyes before he began.

Just as Crouch had done, Carrow shook a spider from a glass jar and enlarged it with an Engorgement charm. Only instead of cursing the creature, he lectured about it to the class, drawing attention to its ugly hairy legs, small stalked eyes and pincer mouth. The spider had been caged with a doxy, a human-looking creature, as small-minded as it was. The spider caught the poor thing and started to bite and siphon the life from it. The doxy looked human enough that the sight was horrifying and offensive. Carrow discussed what the creature was about to do, the action of its pincers and the poisons in its bite. 

Then Carrow did what Neville expected him to do. As Crouch had done, he cursed the creature with the Cruciatus Curse. Neville glanced away. He already knew what that curse looked and felt like. 

When Carrow finished, the spider rolled itself up in a ball. "Didn't we get what we wanted?" Carrow asked the class. "Spider can't eat the doxy can he? No, he doesn't want to do anything now but breathe." 

Carrow poked the spider with the end of his wand. It stayed curled up, defensive and twitching. He shrunk the spider and the doxy back to their normal sizes and swept them both into their jar. 

"Fear and pain knocks everyone down, whether they're vermin or wizards," Carrow said. "The best way to get what you want from anyone is to Cruciate them - no lie." He pointed his wand at the class. "Are you going to be the one who's holding the wand, or the one who gets it? That's the question. Power comes out of a wand, and with the right curses you can control anyone." By now, he was looking right at Neville. "Or break them -- permanent and that's pretty damn broken, believe me." Carrow smiled a taunting, smug little smile. 

When Carrow smiled, Neville decided that he had been one of the Death Eaters who'd gone to the closed ward to laugh at the Longbottoms. Neville was sure Carrow was laughing at them now. All of them, Carrow, Malfoy, the Lestrange woman, they all thought his parents' condition was funny.

Carrow was explaining how to Cruciate, but Neville didn't bother to listen. Instead, he planned what he would do next. Students were standing up all around him. Carrow had ordered the class to grab their own spider, Engorge it and then practice the Cruciatus Curse upon it. 

Neville put his wand into his book bag, locked it in and sat in his seat with his arms crossed.

After a guilty glance at Neville, the Dumbledore's Army students followed the others to the front of the classroom to fetch their spiders. Neville shrugged. 

He watched as the class began to curse their spiders. Most made half-hearted attempts that achieved nothing. Lavender and Parvati talked quietly, while their spiders stood frozen under a Body Bind hex. They pretended to be trying the curse when they thought Carrow was looking. Ernie had his wand pointed at the monstrous looking thing, but Neville doubted he was actually trying to curse it.

"Neville, don't be a pain in the hole, a bug is a bug." Seamus had noticed what Neville was doing. "Have a go, please. We all hate the creatures," Seamus said. He made real attempts to curse his spider. Neville thought he was trying to keep Carrow from noticing what Neville was doing. 

Pansy Parkinson, her face screwed up into a mix of distaste and fear, turned half-away from her spider and pointed her wand shakily at it. "Crucio," she said in a half-whisper. She wouldn't have frightened Neville at nine, when he had been frightened of everything. Blaise Zabini made a feeble attempt, and then announced that he was too fond of spiders to curse them. He turned in his seat to watch everyone else. 

Carrow smiled at Blaise indulgently. He was a favorite student. "Don't worry," Carrow told him. "We'll be doing other animals soon. Ones you will like less."

Theodore Nott, whose spider jumped at him, leapt out of his chair into the space between the desks, bumping into a girl who had fled her own spider. He cursed the creature from the aisle. It twitched in pain, not as badly as Carrow's had, but he had still hurt it. "Have you lost your wand?" Carrow asked, from behind Neville.

"It's locked in my book bag," He replied. 

"Unlock the bag and get it," Carrow croaked. 

"No, I'm not doing the lesson. I refuse -- for obvious reasons." He'd rehearsed the words ever since he locked his wand in his bag. 

"Cuts a little close to home does it? Don't want to learn the spell that put mummy and daddy in the mad house, do you?" 

Parvati gasped. So did Pansy. Blaise laughed a quick short laugh. 

Carrow's voice hardened. "Well, that means nothing. Grab your wand and get to work. Or are you too busy stealing from your Headmaster to do school-work?" 

"No," Neville repeated. It was easy, he had no need to blunder and guess what to do. He crossed his arms. 

Carrow stared at him for an eternity. He looked ready to explode, like his eyes were about to pop out and his hair blow off his head. He marched to the front of the room, grabbed a jar and emptied it onto Neville's desk. The spider ran around, confused and agitated while Carrow engorged it. The creature was huge and ran very close to Neville's crossed arms. A girl, who Neville thought might be Hannah Abbott, squeaked behind him. He wanted to jump up and scream, or sweep the hideous, hairy thing away from him. He stopped himself. Images of it flying through the air only to land on Lavender's or Parvati's hair passed through his mind. 

"Pick up your wand and curse that creature now," Carrow ordered.

Neville had an urge to wrap his sleeve tight around his arm, brush the spider onto the floor and then stomp all over it. He was perfectly willing to squish its insides out. 

"Neville, it's only a spider," Seamus whispered from beside him. "Engorgio," Carrow said, enlarging the spider even more, till Neville could barely stand to look at it. 

Though, to be honest, the spider was no worse than the trolls he'd had to spend many a night with in third year, when he'd slept in the corridor because he'd forgotten the Gryffindor passwords. This creature was a lot smaller. His eyes on the spider, Neville reached down and picked up his book bag, a move that made Carrow think he'd given in. 

"Now that's a smart boy," he said. 

Neville opened the bag and quickly swept the creature inside, locking the bag behind it. It was the cleverest thing he had ever done. He dropped the bag on the floor next to his seat and looked up at Carrow. 

Neville wouldn't have thought it was possible for Carrow to be angrier than he'd been before, but he was. The man lifted his wand arm and Neville knew he was going to be cursed. He had an urge to put up a shield charm but of course, without a wand he couldn't. Neville raised his arms in useless and, ultimately, ironic self-protection. Carrow cursed his fingers off his hands.

Neville stared at them; the palms resembled a useless paddle, like the pads of a cactus. He thought of Moody and his missing eye and leg, cursed off by dark wizards. He worked very hard to keep from screaming. 

His mouth was closed but he could hear screaming, and then he realized it was someone else, but he couldn't tell whom. He was too shocked to pay attention. 

"Stay away from Pomfrey," Carrow ordered. With his wand he wrote on the walls of the classroom, _Students hexed as punishment are not allowed in the Infirmary_.

Neville's hands lay palm up on the desk. He stared at the alien pads that they had become. 

 

******************************************************   


 

Neville hooked his wrist through his book bag and marched out of the classroom, without a look behind him. The other students let him go by before they made a move to leave themselves. Everyone, even the Slytherins, sat too shocked to move. Lavender had never seen a teacher hex a student before. She didn't think the others had either; she could hear them murmuring nervously around her. Behind her, Susan asked Hannah in a whisper if she thought the spell had been a Dark Curse, and if that meant Neville wouldn't get his fingers back. 

Lavender couldn't believe that even Carrow would take a student's fingers permanently. The professor stood smiling in the front of the room, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He told every one to shrink their spiders, put them back in their jars and return them to the front of the class before leaving. 

Lavender walked to Charms with Seamus and Parvati. They tried to hurry, hoping to catch up with Neville, but were slowed by students who stopped them to ask if they knew what had happened. The entire time Seamus whinged to Lavender and Parvati, asking why Neville had to get himself in such trouble over a spider. "A spider, a damn spider," Seamus repeated, until Lavender wanted to hit him. When they reached Charms, they found the doorway clogged with kids from other classes, who were watching Flitwick try over and over again to undo the curse on Neville's hands. Fellow students from Charms class were watching too, standing in a circle around the pair. 

"Has Longbottom brought trouble on himself again?" Snape asked, as the crowd at the doorway parted to let him into the room. 

"Look!" Flitwick gestured wildly toward the cursed hands. "Look what Carrow did to a student. I can't fix it. I've tried, even, since I called you."

Snape glanced down at Neville's fingerless hands. "Well, that is a novel solution to the danger Longbottom poses to a class," he drawled. 

Flitwick's head snapped up, jabbing his finger at Snape, he said, "This isn't funny! You... Him!" Flitwick stopped in mid-sentence as he saw Carrow push his way into the room. Pointing his finger now at the piggy-eyed man who stood panting in front of him, he yelled, "He has to lift it. That's why I insisted he come here. He has to lift this curse." 

"You wanted me?" Carrow wheezed to Snape, ignoring Flitwick entirely. 

"Flitwick has complained about your choice of discipline," Snape answered. 

"What I do in my class is my business," Carrow replied, with a twisted smirk at Flitwick. 

"It's my business too, if he can't do the work in my class. How can I teach him if he can't hold a wand?" Flitwick held up Neville's fingerless palm as he spoke. 

"He refused to do his work in my class!" 

"Refused!" Snape raised an eyebrow. "Unable more like it. Longbottom is incompetent not insubordinate. I think you'll find the assignment beyond his very limited capabilities." Snape sneered over his hooked nose at Neville, who stood there red faced and frowning. "Yes, I'm sure Longbottom was incapable of performing the task you put before him," Snape said, with a nod. 

By now, Lavender would have been screaming. She wondered how Neville could just stand there. Was he so used to nastiness that this was just another day for him? She looked at him closely; his eyes, distrustful and bitter, shifted from Snape to Carrow and back to Snape, as if he expected one of them to hit him with another curse again.

"But as absurd as the idea is, we are required to teach him or to at least attempt the task," Snape said, with a regretful look at Carrow. "I'm afraid that we must restore Longbottom's fingers." 

Snape made removing the hex look easy. The students gave a collective sigh as Neville's fingers came back. Lavender glanced at Flitwick; the Professor had tried hard to help Neville and had failed. He had asked Carrow to heal Neville. Did Carrow and Snape have magic that he didn't?

Flitwick gestured at Snape's left arm. "I never realized the Dark Mark could be so useful," he said, bitterly. Neville wiggled his newly returned fingers. "Thank you, sir" he said quietly to Snape. 

Snape gave Neville a sour look and then said to Carrow, "Punishment hexes may not interfere with class time." 

Carrow smirked all the more. He pointed his wand at Neville. "You," he said, "detention with me this afternoon."

That evening, the mood in the Gryffindor common room was tense, not at all like the triumphant feeling that followed the theft of Gryffindor's sword. Exile in the Forbidden Forest after stealing a legendary weapon from the head's office felt like an adventure. The theft had style, like a prank Fred and George might play. But to be hexed - hideously, frighteningly hexed by a leering nutter of a professor because you refused to torture a spider - that was mad, grim and scary, not an adventure, no, not a fun adventure at all.

A few of the first years bubbled around the room, unaware, while the older students brooded. The Creevey brothers and Sloper peppered the three seventh years with questions about Neville's run-in with Carrow. Ginny, who was supposedly studying, would at every answer, jerk her head and listen with intense interest before returning to her book. The boys kept at the questions until Seamus lost his patience, and shouted at them to stow it. 

At last, Neville stepped in and stood watching them for a moment, looking stooped and weary, his book bag dragging on the ground behind him. He gave a haggard half-smile to Ginny, who rushed forward and grabbed his hands to check his fingers, and then pulled him deeper into the room.

"That was a lovely stunt of yours, today," Seamus said, angrily.

Neville shrugged, and walked over to the fireplace to grab a textbook that lay on the mantle. Peakes, who had been sitting by the fire, jumped up to give Neville his seat. Neville leaned back in the soft chair and closed his eyes for a minute, holding his hands up to warm them. Then he shook himself, sat up straighter and started to leaf through the book's index. 

Seamus stalked over and grabbed the book from him, and searched the inside cover for his name. "This is my book," Seamus said as he tossed it back to Neville. "You don't even have your own copy. You and your gran wouldn't buy it, remember? Longbottoms don't do dark curses." 

Neville sighed. "That was a mistake. There's stuff in here we'll have to know. I'm looking for remedies. If they're going to hex us, and we can't go to Madam Pomfrey, then we'll need remedies of our own." He smiled bitterly, and added, "even if Snape won't let them use hexes that interfere with class."

The thought was not cheerful. Lavender reckoned everyone in the room was resolving to never be hexed.

Seamus rubbed his hands over his face. "Today in class, the spiders - why Neville? All that for spiders?" 

"It's about more than spiders, Seamus," Neville said quietly.

"Tell me -- what is it about then?" 

"You know what it's about," Lavender said. "We all do." She started up the stairs to her dormitory. She needed to get away, she was bone tired. Watching Neville in class made her think about his parents, and thinking about Neville's parents reminded her of her own, and the danger they were in. Dark Arts was heading in a terrible direction. She saw choices coming and they all looked bad. 

Two days later, Lavender walked into Carrow's class, afraid of another confrontation between him and Neville, but nothing happened. Carrow asked if Neville was ready to work and when Neville refused, he sent him to a seat at the back of the room, separated from everyone else. Neville sat there set apart, arms folded, wand packed away, watching everyone else take lessons in the Cruciatus Curse from Carrow. They repeated this arrangement at every class and at the end of every class, Carrow gave Neville a detention. After every detention, Neville returned to Gryffindor tower, strained and exhausted.

Knowing Neville sat behind you while you learned to Cruciate felt damn uncomfortable. Doing something you knew was wrong, and were even a little ashamed of, in front of someone who refused to do it on principle was embarrassing. Some people reacted by ignoring Neville, refusing to look at him during class, and avoiding him outside of it. Other people glanced his way constantly, trying to gauge his reactions to what they were doing. Some people managed to do both, avoiding Neville but at the same time, covertly watching him. 

In the end, most kids decided that Neville was right - for himself; after what happened to his family he could do nothing else. They admired him for his stand, but weren't going to follow it. They saw no reason to risk punishment from Carrow over small things like spiders. In class, some pretended, acting as if they tried to do the curse and failed, even as Carrow began to expect and demand success; while others believed it was hypocritical and squeamish to worry over a creature that they had many times stepped on, or smashed with a shoe. They cast the curse and made their spiders writhe in pain. Every class Neville sat watching those who pretended and those who didn't.

Lavender was sitting in the common room talking to Parvati when Neville returned from a detention, and took the seat by the fire that the Gryffindors kept for him on detention days. Ginny joined him and put up the irritating charm she used whenever she didn't want her conversation overheard. The charm's insect-like buzz blocked all sound, but Lavender could see Ginny pleading with Neville, gesturing at others in the room and at Neville, himself. He looked mulish as he shook his head and answered. Lavender had never known that Neville was capable of looking mulish but there he was doing it.

Parvati stopped talking to watch the argument. "Some in Dumbledore's Army are worried about Neville -- about all the detentions," she whispered. "Others think he's wrong for challenging Carrow openly. They say DA actions should be done in secret. They think he's putting the DA at risk." 

Neville's stand hadn't stopped Dumbledore's Army from working. Just last night they'd hung signs, reminding everyone of the killings of Muggle-born patients at St. Mungos. Lavender wondered if Parvati had been behind them. 

"They didn't talk that way when he, Ginny and that Ravenclaw girl stole Gryffindor's sword," Lavender answered.

"That's not the real reason they're angry," Parvati said, with a knowing look. "Neville won't even pretend to do the curse, and doesn't think they should, either. They want to be cleverer than that. They think he's blinded by what happened to his parents." 

The buzzing ended as Neville and Ginny stood up. Neville was making his way out of the common room, and Ginny was walking with him to the door when Seamus stopped them. Colin, Denis and Sloper looked up from playing cards to watch.

"Did you get him to agree?" Seamus asked Ginny, who told him to ask Neville himself. Seamus spun around to Neville, who watched him with the same distrustful, bitter look he'd given Snape many times. "Everyone is free in Carrow's class to do as much or as little as they can stomach, short of hurting other people. Is that right?" 

"I reckon that's what will happen," Neville said. His face was pink, whether from anger or embarrassment, Lavender didn't know. "But I don't like it. No one should be doing anything Carrow wants."

"So you're right and the rest of us are wrong?"

"What will you do, Seamus, when Carrow orders you to curse something you care about? When he expects real pain? What will you do when it's people in front of your wand? Because it's going to happen. He won't stop at spiders." 

"We'll fake it."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Fake it - How can you fake it?" he asked. "You don't even know what that curse looks like on a person. You can't fake it." His voice was tense, but he spoke calmly, like he was explaining the rules of a game. "Do you think rolling around screaming will be enough? When that curse hits a body it's -- it's lifted in the air, all twisted and bent. How will you fake that?"

Lavender froze inside herself. Her mind pulled back, like she was standing at the edge of a canyon and would fall if she moved an inch. Neville knew what happened to a body while the Cruciatus curse was hitting it. She didn't want to know how he knew, but she suspected. 

"Carrow knows what this curse looks like," Neville reminded them. "He's done it many, many times."

"Neville, faking it now will get us some peace for a time," Parvati said, quietly.

Before Neville could answer, Seamus piped in angrily, "I think in class, you put your wand away because you're afraid of that curse. You're afraid you'll like it too much." 

Neville gave Seamus a look of shocked disbelief. "'Course I am," he said. He opened the round door, stopped and said again, "Of course I am," and walked out. 

That night, Lavender lay in bed thinking about her family. Her parents would be disgusted by Carrow and his class. That she had to even sit in class and listen to a person like him or his sister shocked them. The things she had done to protect the family would horrify them. But how far would they want her to go to protect Jane or William? Lavender didn't think even they would know the answer to that question

In one of her tarot spreads, the Two of Swords had come up. A blindfolded woman holding two crossed swords, she'd made Lavender think of self-protection, but now she wasn't sure. Since the day that Mr. Patil had come to explain the danger, she'd asked herself how to protect her family. She'd made the plan of hiding and of taking no risks, but sticking to that plan was getting uglier and uglier. The Two of Swords was a card of opposing choices. Standing up or protecting her family; was that the choice before her? Was that her only choice? 

Two days later, when Lavender walked into Dark Arts, she was met not by spiders in jars but by mice in cages, and an order to take one to her desk. Like Neville had before, she froze. She couldn't take one of these mice, not knowing what would happen to it. One curious little brown one sniffed with its sensitive nose and quivering whiskers at the bars of its cage. All Lavender could think was that in a few minutes that little animal would be suffering horribly. 

"Go on," Carrow growled. "Grab one. We don't have time for this, girl, grab one."

Lavender stood unable to take a mouse but unable to walk away either. Carrow stuck his face in hers and said, "If you give me trouble, I will make you very, very sorry."

Lavender took the most unappealing mouse she could find: a greasy looking gray that squeaked constantly. From her seat, she could see Carrow bully every student that entered the class into taking a mouse. Some looked sick at the idea, but they did it anyway. 

It took longer than usual for everyone to take their seats and quiet down, but Carrow didn't seem to mind. He stood at his place leering and smirking. She glanced over at Neville. He looked grim and angry, his hands braced against the desk as he watched the class sit with their cages.

"We're moving on today. Don't worry if you couldn't Cruciate your spider. That doesn't mean you can't do a mouse. This game you can join at any time. I've known some who did a human on the first go." He smiled a horrible, twisted smile. "Taking it in steps just makes it easier, teaches you how to Cruciate anything, even them that you didn't think you cared about."

Lavender stared at her mouse; she couldn't hurt it. Her brother had pet mice. He loved them and carried them around the house all the time. It drove her mother crazy because she was afraid they'd get loose. Sometimes they did, which Lavender had always thought was funny. She'd had a pet mouse herself when she was a kid -- and rabbits and birds. Would she have to torment them, too? The mouse was squeaking again. Even if she didn't hurt it, she would have to listen while other people hurt theirs. Did mice scream? She didn't know, but she'd heard a rabbit scream, and she didn't want to hear that all around her. 

Carrow looked across the room to Neville. "So Longbottom, are you working today?" he asked, still smiling his horrible smile. 

"No," Neville said, "It's disgusting." 

"You must really enjoy your detentions, boy," Carrow bellowed at him. He turned his attention back to the class. "Keep your mice inside the cage while you work on it. We don't want them running around the room." This was just work to him. He might have been Flitwick or McGonagall giving normal instructions in class.

"I'm stuck over here in protest, and so should everyone else be. Everyone should be here," Neville said to the class. 

The students kept their eyes on Carrow, who laughed. "It looks like you're all alone there, boy," he said to Neville, who stared, frowning back at the class.

Suddenly, things were clear to Lavender. She remembered the tarot card in her spread, the Nine of Wands. She hadn't seen it when she'd laid it out, but she saw it now. The Nine of Wands stood firm, defeated but resolute. She could help him. That was the message of the card. That was the power she had. She didn't help before, but she could now. She could join Neville and stand up to Carrow.

Lavender had no power over whether or not Kenneth, or anyone else turned her in. She couldn't keep the pig who had given her a fake ancestry from getting her caught. Nothing she did changed anything that they did. She could hide and hide and abandon her friends, and sell herself an inch at a time and they could still betray her. But that didn't matter, because Lavender's actions wouldn't make them turn her in either.

She knew she wasn't getting stronger by obeying Carrow, but shrinking and growing weaker every moment she played the mouse with him.

"None of you should be doing this," Neville repeated. "All of you should be here." 

"He was right," Lavender whispered to herself. "I should be there." Feeling the pull to just get up and join him, Lavender decided to act. She stood up, before she could talk herself out of it and grabbing her mouse cage, unwilling to leave the creature to its fate, scurried over to Neville. He was grinning at her, absolutely grinning. She grinned back like a conspirator. When she reached him, feeling like a child who had won a race, she turned, still grinning, to the rest of the class. Parvati and Seamus were following, stooped a little, like they were pushing through a storm and being beaten by rain, like they expected to be hexed at anytime. Susan and Hannah jumped up too, with Ernie at their back. Eloise eluded Zacharias, his hands missing her shoulder as he tried to stop her from following the others. 

Padma walked over to join her sister, her head high. "Terry told me it wasn't the time yet, but I didn't listen," she whispered to Lavender. 

The rest of the class stared at them open-mouthed, while Carrow screamed and bellowed. He raised his wand and dropped it again. "All of you kids are having detention," he shouted, glaring at them. "And you will be sorry then. By Merlin, you will!" 

None of the nine seemed to care. Lavender didn't. They were together and that felt like enough. Lavender thought of the leaves that sprouted from the wands on the tarot card. The wands were sprouting life. She was coming alive. She felt like a chick escaping its egg, like she was stepping out of a cave, out of hiding, into the sun and the air. Lavender felt powerful. She felt like her parents would be proud. 


End file.
